Nature and Nurture
by Mama Turtle Duck
Summary: Bulma makes a wish that brings a young, teenage Vegeta from another time line into their lives, trying to prove that Vegeta is not truly evil. While Bulma deals with the unexpected fallout her wish has brought to her life and family, the rest of the Z Fighters try to solve the mystery of what has happened to not only Earth's Dragon Balls, but Dende himself.
1. Prologue

_Alrighty, I think I'm ready to give this a whirl. First things first, I'm lazy and I have a not so lazy two year old who takes up most of my limited attention. This will not be updated super fast, although I'm hoping to be fairly consistent and get at least one to two chapters out a month, which will be much longer than this prologue.  
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_Oh, and I don't have a beta because I'm anti-social and have trouble meeting people.  
_

**Nothing is mine, not even my mind. This takes place shortly after Buu and GT can suck my nuts. **

Bulma would not have another argument about this. Vegeta wanted to do nothing, but she was done with the sleepless nights and the anxious days. Since Vegeta had died against Buu, it was a line of thought that swirled in a vortex of dark emotion and heart-pounding frustration. Vegeta hadn't been in heaven with her. He'd been in Hell. The thought made her feel crazy.

Why the state of his eternal afterlife had never before occurred to her, she didn't know. Perhaps it was an unconscious denial of how cruel life truly was. Death wasn't something she usually dwelled on, nor truly worried about, thanks to the Dragon Balls. She knew that it was eventually unavoidable, death comes whether you give it thought or not.

This had led her to Kami's (or Dende's now, she supposed) Lookout. Her hover plane was parked behind her nearly on top of Mr. Popo's flower garden, precariously close to the edge. It took mere seconds for Dende to emerge from the darkness underneath the high arching doorways of the temple. He wore a pleasant smile and seemed not at all surprised to find her waiting.

"Good morning Ms. Briefs," he said, giving her a small incline of his head. "To what do I own the pleasure of your company?"

Bulma had thought about the best way to bring this subject up to the demi-god many times. Almost obsessively, as of late. She'd thought to be sensible and calm, and ask him his opinion. Instead, she blurted "He doesn't deserve Hell! It's not fair!" and dissolved into tears.

Dende looked startled at her outburst. He asked Popo, who was tending the garden near her plane, to retrieve drinks and shuffled her over to a bench in the flowers.

When she'd calmed down and chugged the most unbelievably bland lemonade she's ever had, , Dende began to awkwardly twiddle his thumbs on the bench next to her. It made her nervous. If he didn't agree with her, then who would? Dende was the kindest person she had ever met.

"Dende," she croaked and then cleared her throat. "He was resurrected with the rest of us. Does that mean he's not going to Hell anymore? He's already been twice. Is that not enough?"

"I don't know, Ms. Briefs. That's not my decision to make. That's something that only King Yamma can tell you."

"Then let me speak to him!"

"That isn't something I can do either," he shook his head, but smiled all the same. "But you should go to Goku. He's used Instant Transmission to get to the afterlife before, I'm sure he can do it again."

An hour later, Bulma landed on the hill outside of Goku's mountain home. Goku was rolling in the grass nearby, wrestling with Goten when her hover plane had appeared and now Goten was happily perched on his father's shoulders as the waited for her to exit the plane.

"Goku," she yelled, waving and running to him. "Take me to see King Yamma!"

"Sure!" He answered without pause as he set Goten onto the bright green grass. "What for, Bulma?"

"I need to speak to him about Vegeta's soul."

"Why, is there something wrong with it?"

"Yes! It's damned! Now let's move! I don't have all day, you know!" She snapped, wanting to get this damn process started.

.


	2. Observer Bias

_AN: Okay, so I realized after I had already written the scene that Porunga actually speaks Not Namekian in the Buu Saga. Buuut, I'm really not motivated to change it. Also, I wanted this chapter to be longer, but I'm also doing NaNoWriMo this year, so much of my creative energies have been going into that. Still, it is a bit longer than the last time. I promise, next chapter, we **will **get much more Tween Monster Vegeta. Vegeta should be making his appearance soon after.  
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_Also, I cannot figure out for the life of me the damn formatting on this website. I am trying. Maybe next time I'll be able to make this prettier.  
_

**_Warnings: Mature Language._**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ_**

* * *

King Yemma was not amused. Son Goku had suddenly appeared before his desk and some psychotic harpy he'd brought with him had been screaming at him ever since. He could pick out words, like "bastard" and "you can't" and "do something", but what really caught his attention was "Vegeta".

"Quiet!" the Lord of the Underworld snapped and although he had not spoken loudly, his size helped his voice resonate throughout the room.

The woman froze and looked up at him with narrowed blue eyes. He'd never seen such a put out look and he'd been generating them in other people for millennia.

"Hey, buddy, I've got something to say and you'd better listen! This is important!" She screamed, finally understandable.

"More important than all of these souls waiting to be processed?" he asked, gesturing towards the never-ending parade of souls lined up behind her.

Bulma glanced over her shoulder and gave a shrug.

"They have eternity. I don't. And that's the problem," she said, calming down now that she was sure she had the giant oni's attention.

King Yemma sighed and placed his rubber stamp down on his desk. He knew from experience that anything dragged in by Son Goku wasn't going to go away just because he told it to. "Speak."

Bulma took a deep, steadying breath and channeled her business meeting "zen".

"I need to know what's going to become of my husband when he dies," she said evenly.

Yemma looked confused.

"Your husband?"

"Vegeta," she replied, stress seeping into her tone.

King Yemma's eyebrows shot up and he began rifling through his book of souls. He delicately picked through the pages, throwing glances at her over his desk. He finally stopped searching and read carefully over several pages before shaking his head and heaving a deep sigh.

"That would make you Bulma Briefs," she nodded her head as he continued. "Your husband has done a great deal of evil in his lifetime and very little to repent."

"What the Hell do you mean? He saved the freaking universe less than a month ago!"

"Yeah! Even the Otherworld would be gone if it weren't for him!" Goku interjected from over Bulma's shoulder.

"Yes, and he saved the world in the same day he allowed himself to be possessed and killed over 80 people," King Yemma said.

"But we wished them back!" Goku replied lamely.

"The things he did in his past aren't his fault. Every evil thing he's ever done was brought on by Frieza! If anyone should suffer for what Vegeta has done, it's that freak," Bulma argued, temper rising.

"If we pardoned every soul whose evil deeds had a reason then no one would go to Hell," King Yemma countered.

"He's really a good person! I know he would have been his whole life if it weren't for Frieza and I know he regrets what he's done!" Bulma's eyes were beginning to sting with tears. This wasn't getting anywhere!

"There is no evidence of that!"

"Is it not evidence enough that he's stayed on Earth all this time, instead of trying to rule the galaxy?"

"I can't remember a time when someone who's earned their way into Hell has earned their way back out," King Yemma said, running out of patience. "If this is all you have to say then you're wasting your time".

"No! No, I'm not! I demand a trial! You can't just condemn people's souls for all eternity without at least a trial!" Bulma yelled, becoming desperate.

"That's what the book is for! You're wasting your time! I can't give just one person out of millions who go through this way station every day a trial. And what evidence could be presented? Your husband's word?"

It was at this point that Bulma realized she was going to have to do something insanely drastic. Her mind raced for possibilities and solutions. "Fine, I'll prove it myself! I'll raise him from a child on my own! I'll wish for another version of him from another timeline and then you'll see that he was never really evil, not even at his worst."

"Woman, that man has been evil all the way through since before puberty," King Yemma said, exasperated. "But you do whatever you want. Since you and your husband are allies of Son Goku, I will give you an opportunity to present your "case" upon the next death of your husband".

Bulma grabbed Goku by the front of his shirt and attempted to shake him, although her anger was impotent against his strength and all she managed to do was stretch out the fabric.

"Take me to New Namek. We need the big guns for this!"

* * *

Several hours later, Bulma stood before the Namekian Dragon Balls. As the Balls began to glow and the Dragon rose, her mind whirled, repeating her conversation with King Yemma over and over.

_Before puberty, my ass. _She thought to herself, angry and - deep underneath the anger - afraid that she was wrong.

She watched as the light of the Dragon bounced off the ominous black clouds above and illuminated the area and the Porunga's enormous head dipped low to provide her its undivided attention. _There's only one way to know for sure_, she mused.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked to Murray, who looked expectantly back at her.

"Tell the Dragon my wish is to have a prepubescent version of my husband from another timeline be brought to me," Murray's hairless eyebrows shot up into his antennae, but he dutifully translated the wish into Namekian anyway.

The Dragon nodded it's head and announced that the wish had been granted, strangely enough so that she could understand him. The Dragon hovered and she suddenly realized that she still had two more wishes on these Balls. Before she had a chance to contemplate those wishes, she was suddenly on the ground with Goku standing in front of her, a moderate sized ki blast dissipating in his upraised hand.

"Hey, Vegeta! That's not very nice," Goku yelled. "We're not going to hurt you!"

"Where the _fuck _am I and who the hell are you?"

The voice was high pitched and childlike, but Bulma would recognize those inflections anywhere. That was her husband, but not. The implications of what she'd actually just done whispered on the outside of her thoughts, but she pushed them aside. No time to consider the ramifications now. She leaned her view around Goku's rather large, muscled thigh. Silhouetted against the bright glare of the Dragon Balls she could just barely make out the shape of her husband's hair, only much closer to the ground than usual.

"We're your friends and we're very, very far away from Frieza," Bulma said, loud enough that she was sure the younger Vegeta could hear her.

She screeched and shrunk away from Goku as he stopped several direct blasts, covering her face with her arms. From the hole in the curve of her elbow, she barely detected the saiyan taking off into the air. She raised her arm to call for him to wait, but Goku was already grabbing the boy right out of the sky and pulling him into a bear hug against his chest. Vegeta struggled, his blue aura becoming visible as he thrashed and kicked and bit at a largely unaffected Goku.

"You have to calm down," Goku said, assuming his serious voice. "We only want to help you!"

"Go fuck yourself, you psycho!" Vegeta growled, nailing Goku in the knee with his heel hard enough to possibly leave a bruise.

"This isn't working," Bulma said to herself, her hands threading themselves in her hair. "Tell the Dragon that I wish he had to do what I tell him," she gestured wildly in the direction of the struggling pair.

The moment the words left her mouth she was already rethinking them. Yes, that would make him have to listen to her, but would it make him any more likely to trust her? As she began to tell Murray to change the wish, the Dragon nodded and affirmed again that the wish was done. Too late for regrets, she thought, maybe she can unwish it with the last wish.

"Vegeta, stop and calm down!" She yelled.

Immediately, the struggle stopped and she breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps, if used sparingly, the second wish could stay. Goku dropped to the ground and let go of the much smaller saiyan, letting him fall to his feet. The child version of the warrior stood and glared in both their directions, but made no hostile moves.

The Dragon suddenly grumbled something, sounding irritable. Murray turned to her and told her the Dragon wanted her third wish. She briefly entertained the idea of wishing her version of Vegeta would also have to listen to whatever she told him, or at the very least that he couldn't kill her when she brought home what was most likely his worst nightmare.

She should probably unwish her last wish, but looking at the already seething expression the boy was sporting even after being ordered to calm down made her hesitate. Yes, he would probably hate her for a long time, but if she couldn't ever get him to listen to her it might actually take longer. This Vegeta already seemed wild and she tried to imagine being left in a room alone with him, trying to gain his trust while praying he didn't just blast her head off. Her Vegeta hadn't done that, but he'd also been through his death on Namek. While he'd never told her directly, she knew that had been the life changing event that had given him the patience to not just kill her and steal her spaceship.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her decision. She had until the next time Vegeta died to gather enough evidence of his better qualities. While she tried to be optimistic, the reality was that she had no way of telling when the next Universe-threatening, mega-powerful baddie would appear. It could as easily be next week as it could be in 30 years. She knew without any uncertainty, though, that one would. She couldn't afford to waste time trying to coax this new Vegeta into talking to her.

In all the years she'd known Vegeta, she'd never had the opportunity to have a real, two-way conversation with him. What she knew of him, she'd gathered over many years of careful listening and scientific conjecture. His past and his emotions were locked up and sometimes she wondered if he was even aware of their existence most days.

Taking one final, deep breath, she told Murray her final wish.


	3. Anchoring Heuristic

I took a lot more time and care with this chapter. My Beta Extraordinaire and super longtime friend must have put in at least as much time editing this as I did writing it, so I'd like to extend my eternal love and thanks to her.

I don't own DBZ

* * *

It was dawn, dark with storm clouds and a chill in the air, when Goku, Bulma, and their new charge appeared on the lush paths of Mrs. Brief's garden. Within seconds of their arrival, Vegeta and Trunks were converging on them from different parts of the Capsule Corp. complex. They must have noticed she'd been gone all night. Trunks would be worried, but Bulma assumed that Vegeta was training all night and only vaguely noticed her absence. He would have been able to feel both her ki and Goku's, if he'd felt inclined to find her.

"Stay still and be quiet until I have things under control," she said to the frustrated child still trying to shrug away from the grip Goku had on his shoulder. He stilled and, impossibly, his expression became even darker.

Once Vegeta was close enough for her to see clearly, she could see his already-furious eyes locked on the child behind her. He seemed to have blown right past shock and straight into murder mode.

"Woman, what the fuck did you do?" Vegeta growled.

"Vegeta, I know this must be really confusing, but I promise I have my reasons if you just listen."

"What did you do?" he asked again, scathingly.

"It's for you. I know we talked about this and you wanted me to just leave it alone, but I had to do something. I'm trying to help you." She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so nervous. Namek maybe.

Vegeta's face didn't change. Compared to what Bulma had been expecting, he almost seemed blank, but his aura was twitching visibly and his muscles bulged. He was terrifying. He wasn't reacting the way she expected. She'd expected a similar reaction to when she'd told him she was pregnant with Trunks. He had yelled, screamed, called her every name in the book, and then he'd left. When he eventually came back, he forgave her and decided to take responsibility for his role in their son's creation, but it had taken a very long time.

Bulma could see Trunks from the corner of her eye. He was staring hard at the younger version of his father, who was staring at his older counterpart with a look of wide-eyed horror. It occurred to Bulma at this moment that perhaps she hadn't explained all of this to the child as well as she should have. Before she had time to fully contemplate all the mistakes that were suddenly flooding her mind, Vegeta exploded.

"Are you completely fucking insane?" he snarled. His aura flared to life and his fists clenched, his posture rigid and unnatural.

Goku was in front of her again, standing with his arms outstretched placatingly towards the prince. "Vegeta, maybe you should calm down. Bulma is only trying to -"

"Stay the Hell out of this, you complete idiot!" Vegeta screamed, the veins standing out along his neck. At least he was yelling now. Yelling was normal. Yelling was good.

"What's going on here?" A tentative, new voice called.

Behind Vegeta, Bulma saw Gohan arrive, Goten not far behind him. Gohan took in the tension of the scene, his posture reflecting the atmosphere of the situation, while Goten happily ran to greet Trunks.

"Don't interfere, brat, this is between the woman and I. Take your moronic family and leave." Vegeta said, still glowing with energy, but more contained now that he had an audience.

"Who's that?" Goten asked.

Bulma glanced back at the boys, Goten pointing and Trunks shrugging. She tried to form a sane-sounding answer, but she was distracted by Krillin, Yamcha, and Piccolo arriving from separate directions. Piccolo landed beside Gohan, while Yamcha and Krillin hung back, casting both Bulma and Goku concerned looks over Vegeta's shoulder.

Vegeta's entire body twitched, his muscles jumping out of time with each other. His eyes were focused on Bulma, but she knew he was agitated by the presence of the others. _Serves him right for practically going Super Saiyan on me._

"Auntie Bulma, who is that?" Goten repeated loudly.

All attention shifted to the boy who looked every bit the precursor to his adult counterpart. Finding himself the center of attention, the prince snarled viciously, almost visibly bristling. Jaws collectively dropped.

"Bulma, did you and Vegeta have another kid and not tell us about it again? Krillin asked.

"We wished for a little Vegeta, because we want to save Vegeta's soul! Goku announced.

Krillin appeared to actually try to process that. "Um, okay."

"My soul does not need saving, fool!" Vegeta yelled, power bursting around him and briefly flashing gold before coming back under control.

"Wait, wait, wait, you did what? That's Vegeta?" Gohan pointed incredulously, eyes bulging behind his new, thick framed glasses.

Bulma took this as her opportunity to wrest control of the situation. "Yes. He's from another timeline. Isn't he adorable?"

"Woman, I will fucking blast you!" Vegeta barked.

"Crazy bitch," hissed his small doppelganger.

Bulma glanced back at the grumbling child and ignored her husband. Any time she complimented his appearance he threatened to send her to another dimension.

"Bulma, you've done some seriously crazy things in all the years I've know you," Yamcha said. "But this? What are you thinking?"

"I'm doing what I have to do to save my husband and the father of my child, who deserves a second chance, soul included," she snapped.

"This is ridiculous," Piccolo growled. "We're collecting Earth's Dragon Balls and ending this immediately."

"No, you can't do that!" Bulma yelled, starting towards the Namek as if she meant to stop him herself.

"If he doesn't, woman, I will," said Vegeta.

"Vegeta, you have to calm down and listen to me! I'm trying to do what's best for our family."

Vegeta's ki abruptly dropped off entirely and his shoulders squared. Suspicion and confusion bloomed in his eyes as he searched her face skeptically. Bulma felt her heart leap at his sudden cooperation.

Piccolo rose into the air, Gohan following him. Gohan was clearly supporting Piccolo's decision although he did shoot Bulma and apologetic glance. Bulma knew that both Gohan and Krillin possessed Dragon Radars. She'd given one to each of them years ago, after the Androids, in case of emergency.

"No! Wait, please!" They weren't going to listen to her. She looked beseechingly to her oldest friend. "Goku, you understand, do something!"

Before she could blink, Piccolo was inside of a crater in what a few moments ago was her mother's flower bed. Goku held Gohan by the arm and seemed every bit as surprised as everyone else by what had just happened.

"Bulma, I think your other wish messed up," Goku said.

"I see that, Goku, thank you," she answered, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Nothing was going right today!

"Other wish? What the heck did you wish to make Goku do that?" Krillin asked, gesturing at Piccolo, who was pulling himself up and wiping purple blood of off his face with a slightly more perturbed expression than usual.

"It wasn't supposed to affect him. I meant it for little Vegeta over there, but I guess I wasn't specific enough," she explained.

"What was it," Vegeta snarled.

"I wished that he would have to do whatever I tell him to," The dark look on her husband's face made her hurry on. "He was freaking out and fighting Goku! Besides, if I can't even be confident in the same room as him, how am I supposed to help him?"

"You aren't. This isn't up to you!"

"You're going to Hell, Vegeta!"

"So fucking what?" he yelled as his veins popped and his aura exploded back to life. He was furious now, but Bulma was too shocked by what he'd said to feel fear.

"What?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"I've killed billions without regret. If Hell isn't meant for people like me, who the fuck is it for?"

"You, you didn't –" she stuttered. "It wasn't something – you didn't chose to –"

"Yes, I did. I chose killing, murder, and genocide. It's in my blood. I don't regret it."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

Suddenly, a bright flash and sonic boom from just behind her nearly bowled her over. Her breath caught in her lungs as she realized they were having this fight in front of her son, who hadn't known. He'd known that his father wasn't always a good guy, that he'd fought against them once, and that he just generally wasn't a friendly person. He had not known the rest and had no context for it.

"Shit," she cursed.

Vegeta looked almost as surprised by Trunks' take off as she felt, for about half a second, then his death glare resurfaced and settled back onto her.

"This is your fault." Then he was gone in a burst of blue and white.

Bulma looked to each of her friends, nearly in tears. She really thought, deep in her heart, that she would have everyone's support, once they understood her reasons. After all, Vegeta was her husband. He redeemed himself when he fought against Buu. He'd been their ally for more than ten years. It wasn't plausible that they were afraid of a little boy with a fraction of their strength. The only person he could hurt was her, and she'd taken care of that with her second wish.

"Guys," she begged. "Please."

Krillin and Yamcha still looked put-out, but one glance at her watery, blue eyes and Bulma knew they'd do whatever she told them without a wish compelling them to do so.

"Come on, Piccolo! If you were damned, wouldn't you hope we'd go to bat for you?" Bulma implored. "You were a bad guy once, too."

Piccolo eyed her warily and looked back to where Goku had just let go of Gohan. Goku shot him an apologetic smile and waved.

"Fine, but we're still gathering the Dragon Balls to fix Goku."

"Yes!" Bulma clapped her hands together, thrilled that she had won. "Thank you! I know this will all work out."

"Yeah, well, you're the one stuck with him," Piccolo grumbled.

* * *

Trunks landed in a clearing somewhere between West City and Mt. Pazou. Trunks liked to consider himself a tough kid, but now he couldn't stop the tears. What were his parents talking about? His dad was going to Hell? Had _gone _to Hell? And he deserved it? He'd killed people? Why hadn't anyone told him any of this before?

He sat down in the grass, still wet from the morning rain, and put his face in his hands. His parents never told him anything! His mom had just gone and wished for basically a new kid his same age and never asked him what he thought about it. It was really weird, seeing a kid-version of his dad. That "dad" had looked every bit as mean as his real dad, but still like a kid. For some reason, Trunks had always assumed that his father had materialized as an adult. Would he have to go to school with him? He couldn't imagine his father ever going to school and following the rules. He'd be kicked out for blasting the teacher within first period.

Trunks wiped the tears away with the back of his arm as Goten landed next to him. The other demi-Saiyan smiled obliviously at first, then frowned at the tear tracks on Trunks' face.

"Trunks, your mommy is worried about you," Goten said.

Trunks snorted. "Sure, she is."

Goten was quiet for a moment. "She's still taking care of that kid that's your dad. But she was real sad when she saw you leave. And your dad was mad at her 'cause of it."

"Really?"

"Yup, yelled at Auntie Bulma and everything. Then he left, but he went the other way," Goten explained.

"Hm." Trunks hadn't really expected his dad to come after him. "He was already mad at her anyway."

"So, is that kid that's your dad going to be your new brother?" Goten asked.

"What? No! Shut up. He can't be my brother is he's my dad!"

"Yeah, that'd be weird. I wonder what he's like. He didn't look nice."

"My dad's not nice. Apparently, he's a murderer. A mass murderer." Trunks said, anger and confusion rising again in his chest.

"But he saved the world when he helped my dad beat Buu. Doesn't that make him a good guy?" Goten rubbed the back of his head in a way reminiscent of his father's own absent-minded fidget.

"I don't know."

Trunks had thought he knew. His dad trained him to fight. They spent hours together every day. Trunks was old enough that he was starting to understand there were things about adults that he didn't know, and he'd known that his father was maybe a little more complicated than even normal adults. Still, nothing his dad did said "genocidal maniac". He even took Trunks to the park sometimes, and – after Bulma had thrown a fit – had started eating dinner with them every night.

"Gohan and your mom said that Mr. Piccolo used to be a bad guy, too. I think most of my dad's friends used to be bad guys. Maybe that's normal," Goten said, sitting and tugging at the moist grass.

"I don't think anything about our families or friends is normal, Goten." Trunks swallowed thickly and gazed dispassionately at the cloudy horizon.

* * *

Bulma watched as the last of her friends disappeared into a dot over the horizon, squinting against the sun that still stung her eyes despite being mostly obscured behind dark, heavy clouds. She convinced them to leave, insisting she was fine. She handled Vegeta by herself when he first came to Earth after the events on Namek; it was ridiculous to think she couldn't handle the tiny child behind her.

She turned hurriedly – the excitement of getting her first real chance to interact with him filling her with enough adrenaline to push away her exhaustion – only to be blinded by a bright blast of blue ki coming at her face. She screamed and curled in on herself, anticipating the pain of her flesh melting away in the seconds before she died. Instead, she heard the familiar sound of flesh and bone smashing together and the thud of a body impacting the dirt.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?"

Bulma straightened from where she had collapsed to the ground in fear to see her son standing before her as a full Super Saiyan, the look of rage on his face eerily similar to the boy he'd just cold-clocked. Her heart stopped as she waited for the young boy she'd just sworn to care for to move from where he was buried two feet into her lawn. She pushed herself to her feet and ran to him.

Dislodging his small body from the soil, she gasped when she saw the large, purpling bruise on his jaw that stood out sharply against the dirt on his face. He was littered with tiny cuts and bruises. For a brief moment, she was shocked that her baby could do this to another person – someone considered a strong warrior in his own right – with just a single hit. She felt his for vital signs and was relieved to feel a softly thrumming pulse.

"Trunks, get me a Senzu from your father's stash," she said urgently.

"What? No! Are you crazy? He tried to kill you!" Trunks snapped, disbelievingly. His eyes wavered from teal to blue as he dropped his Super Saiyan from, his arms crossed defiantly. He fixed both his mother and the boy in her lap with a petulant glare.

"And now he's hurt, Trunks! Go get them."

"No Mom, I don't want to heal him! I don't want him here! Send him back where he came from!"

"Trunks, sweetie, you don't understand. I'll explain everything to you later, but this _is_ your father and we need to help him," she pleaded, gazing at her son from shocked, weary eyes.

"No, he's not! Dad's gone off somewhere because you pissed him off again doing something stupid!"

"Trunks Briefs! You will watch how you talk to me," Bulma warned, her body and face constricting with anger.

"No! This is stupid and I don't understand how getting killed by _him_," he jabbed a finger at the small Vegeta, who Bulma was now cradling in her lap, "is going to help anyone, especially Dad."

"He's not going to kill me, Trunks. I'm doing this to keep your dad with with us in the afterlife. To keep him from going to Hell. This is important."

"But why?" Trunks implored desperately, confusion and anger causing his voice to crack.

"What do you mean 'why'? Because I love him and he doesn't deserve –"

"No! I mean, what did he do to have to go to Hell at all? Why is that one trying to kill you?"

Bulma paused, her mind grinding to a halt. "Trunks..." she began after a moment of thought. "That is a lot to get into right now. I need to get him to the infirmary and make sure he's okay. We can talk about it after I know he's alright. Will you please get the Senzu?"

Trunks leveled her with a hard glare, his eyes burning with anger. He reminded Bulma so much of his father when he was like this, it gave her goosebumps.

"No," he said firmly, then powered up and took off like a shot before Bulma could argue.

"Damn it!" She cursed.

She shifted the unconscious boy on her lap into her arms and stood. She would have preferred not to move him, but Saiyans are hardy and the risk of moving one with a head injury wasn't the same as moving a human. She was surprised by how light Vegeta was, even for a child. Trunks was younger than him, but clearly had more muscle mass and was possibly even taller. Bulma had been having trouble lifting Trunks since before his fifth birthday, but this child couldn't have weighed more than a large bag of Dino Chow.

She hurried him to the infirmary and laid him on the single hospital bed, the same bed she'd nursed his older counterpart back to health on at least a few times. She took a moment to get a better look at his injuries. His face looked like it had been smashed in by a meteor, but she'd seen injuries like this on her husband and even her son before, and she doubted there was anything truly damaged beyond what a Saiyan could handle. Her eyebrows knit together in concern as she smoothed his bangs away from his eyes. She didn't understand why he was still unconscious, it seemed an abnormally long time from her experience. Maybe he just wasn't as tough as the others, but she found that hard to believe.

She decided that he would survive without her for a few minutes and left him alone on the bed to search for a Senzu Bean. Whatever it was that was keeping the small prince knocked out instead of shooting ki beams at her wouldn't matter once she fed him a bean. It was possible that he could have been on a mission and already hurt or tired before she wished him into her timeline. He'd been quite a bit dirtier and wild-looking than she'd expected of him, not at all collected and poised like her Vegeta had been when he'd first arrived on Earth.

She found a Senzu in the Gravity Simulator and breathed a sigh of relief, glad she wouldn't have to run across the compound to find one in their room. She made Vegeta always keep at least one, just in case something like the training incident he'd had while preparing for the Androids happened again. Of course, it had, because Vegeta never knew when to quit. It had now become a habit to accumulate a few beans before one was needed.

When she arrived back at the infirmary, Vegeta was still unconscious. She wondered if it was possible to go from knocked-out straight to sleeping, because his breathing was deep and his body seemed relaxed. He might not even need the Senzu, perhaps he was just tired and needed to rest. Besides, she was exhausted herself and hadn't slept for nearly an entire day. It couldn't hurt to leave him like that, just so she could get a little shut eye.

She caught her own train of thought and felt disgusted with herself. Here was a little boy, suffering right in front of her, and she had the means to end it entirely in her hand. Of course she was going to give it to him. It didn't matter that she was afraid he'd try to incinerate her again the moment he woke up. She just had to be quicker on the draw and tell him not to. She would have to stay on top of him, until she eliminated any possible way he could cause trouble.

She held the bean over his mouth, pausing as a wave of numbing fatigue washed over her. She might be better at responding to him if she could get a little sleep first. Just because she didn't give him the Senzu didn't mean she couldn't help him. He looked tired and the Senzu would likely wake him up. He could possibly be less trouble after a good sleep.

Bulma backed away and set the bean on the work desk she kept here for her overnight vigils. She went to the closet near the bathroom and pulled out a metal case containing vials and a syringe nestled in foam. She selected two vials, a sedative and a pain reliever, both tried and tested on Saiyans. She would just get a little sleep, and when they both woke next, things would get off on a better foot, she was sure.

* * *

Vegeta felt Trunks coming long before he could see him. He considered leaving, but that felt too much like running away. He didn't doubt that Trunks had a lot on his mind and Vegeta had no desire to deal with any of it. He could have happily died without Trunks ever knowing a minute of his past. It wasn't that he was ashamed, he was just sure the boy would make a huge deal out of it, the same as his mother always did.

Trunks dropped heavily to his feet behind him and was quiet until Vegeta turned to face him. His son's face was red with emotion and Vegeta could see and smell that he'd been crying. The sudden pang of regret that sliced through his chest was unexpected and he viciously smashed it down, keeping his face impassive.

"You – or, that kid," Trunks sniffed, desperately holding back more tears. "He tried to kill Mom. I stopped him, but she still doesn't want to send him back."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow but remained silent, not quite knowing what to say. He wasn't exactly surprised at the child's behavior.

"She said you're going to Hell and for some reason thinks having that _other_ you here will change that."

"It won't. Your mother is being ridiculous again."

"So, it's true then?" Trunks' attempt at a brave face was rapidly crumbling, fat tears beginning to fall as his body trembled. "You murdered people? You're a bad person?"

Vegeta wanted to lie. He really did. He wasn't blind to the fact that Trunks regarded him as a hero, and while he had never encouraged that, he'd never had the heart to actively discourage it either. As loathe as he was to admit it, it had been nice to be around an innocent child who knew nothing of his past sins. Even after the tournament, when Vegeta had attacked civilians and done so much wrong, Trunks had never looked at him with fear or hatred.

The wary look the others gave him, the one that said he was a ticking time bomb and they were just waiting for him to go off, was already beginning to form in his son's eyes. No matter what he did or said now, the complete trust and hero-worship Trunks had always afforded him would fade. Now, the boy would continue to wonder, even if he lied and told Trunks is mother was just a hysterical nut job.

"It's true." Vegeta didn't look away in shame, nor did he fear his only child's reaction to being told, with no uncertainty, that his father was a murderer. He watched stoically as Trunks' entire body shook and his face dissolved into snot and tears.

"But why?"

Vegeta shrugged one shoulder and turned away. After a few minutes of listening to Trunks sob, he was about ready to just leave him there. He knew Trunks wouldn't approve of his past, being raised as he was by his weak-hearted mother on a backwards planet full of stupid, baseless morals, but he still didn't understand the way his child was reacting. Vegeta had guessed that Trunks might want nothing more to do with him, or become cold towards him, but he had never imagined he'd be so upset by it.

"I don't understand," Trunks choked. "Why did you want to hurt people?"

"It's a Saiyan's nature to be violent," Vegeta replied automatically.

Trunks' eyes widened and for a moment he looked like he was going to be sick. "So, I'm going to be a murderer, too?"

"No," Vegeta barked, turning to look at his son again. Trunks looked so small and young, still in his night clothes and standing barefoot in the mud. The trees behind him swayed in the wind and it crossed Vegeta's mind that the rain was returning soon. Trunks looked cold already, but it was hard to tell if he was shivering from the temperature or emotion. "You're half human. You are too weak to do what I have done."

Trunks didn't look particularly comforted. Vegeta huffed. He wasn't any good at this. If the damn woman hadn't lost her mind, none of this would be happening and he would be sparring with Trunks in the Gravity Simulator by now, after having consumed a large breakfast. He remembered offhandedly that Trunks might have school later in the day, but he wasn't keeping track of when he was and wasn't supposed to be going.

"There's no use talking about this. I've already told your mother. I'm going to train."

Vegeta took off slowly, giving Trunks plenty of time to catch up with him. When he didn't, Vegeta increased his speed, vowing that this drama Bulma had brought upon them was going to end the moment he returned home.


	4. Cognitive Dissonance

AN: I'm not really happy with this chapter yet. I feel like I could have done more with it, but I feel like I've just run out of time. I'm sorry for the wait for this chapter, but I'm currently pregnant with my second child and the first trimester was HELL. Whenever I felt good enough to be productive, I needed to spend time on my real life and older kiddo. I'm back in the saddle now, have the first part of the next chapter done, and I'm working on some side projects I hope will greatly complement this on. On top of that, I really want to go back and rework my first few chapters and I have someone working with me on that now :) I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

* * *

Vegeta and Trunks arrived home to a silent Capsule Corp. Vegeta was impressed that not one of the buildings were in flames, having expected more from his younger counterpart. The wish Bulma had made must have been very strong indeed, otherwise she used her wish with exceptional creativity.

Trunks disappeared, mumbling something about finding his mother before going to Goten's. Vegeta didn't pay him much mind, instead focusing on what he planned to do next. He could sense Bulma in their bedroom, still and calm, probably sleeping. In another building across the property, he could sense himself, an odd feeling which raised the hair on his neck, in the private infirmary. It felt as though the boy was sleeping, something Vegeta found strange. He remembered rarely sleeping at that age, always training in between his usual back-to-back missions.

He arrived at the infirmary to find it dark, lights out with the shade pulled down, and his small doppelganger in a deep slumber. Vegeta stalked closer, expecting the child to leap from the bed and try to blow his head off. When that didn't happen, Vegeta paused and frowned, confusion spreading through him like a virus. He shouldn't care what was going on with this impostor Just having him here was a disturbance, and unless it was a challenging opponent or dinner, Vegeta did not like disturbances.

He cast a dark glare at the blanket-covered form and settled into the desk chair that was already pulled away from the desk. He had come here with the intention to just incinerate the problem and be done with it. Now that he was here, killing _himself _seemed like a particularly strange thing to do. Not impossible, but maybe something that required a bit more contemplation. People were always telling him he didn't think before acting.

As he laid his arm across the desk, and his elbow came into contact with a small object – a Senzu bean – set innocuously next to an empty metal case. He knew that case, Bulma came wielding that thing at him whenever she thought he'd overdone it training. He nearly always refused the contents inside of sedative made him completely unaware of his surroundings for hours and that was never acceptable. His gaze went to the boy on the bed and he snorted in bemusement. The woman was already at the end of her rope and his younger self had only been here a short few hours! Of course, she could barely handle him when he arrived after dying on Namek, and he had been much more subdued by then than he had been was at this age, though he'd never tell her that. She would be ready to send this tiny, disruptive version of him back where he came from by then end of the next day, no matter how stubborn she thought herself.

With a smirk, he pinched the Senzu bean between his fingers and lifted it, eyeing it thoughtfully. Just because he was sure his youthful counterpart could send her over the edge in his own time, there was no reason Vegeta couldn't get things started now.

* * *

Krillin fiddled with the Dragon Radar for one last time before sighing exhaustively and dumping the useless device to the grass with its twins. Yamcha, Piccolo, and Gohan all looked at him with various degrees of nervousness and impatience from the small semi-circle they'd formed around him. He shook his head bleakly.

"None of them are working?" Yamcha asked. **"**That's weird."

"No kidding. Do you think they can really all be broken?" Gohan asked.

"How would they all break at the same time? That's nuts!" said Krillin.

Piccolo frowned down at the pile of radars, a dark look slowly coming over his already sharp features. "It must have been Bulma. She must have done something to the radars because she doesn't want us to make a wish."

"I don't know. Bulma can be crafty, but even she would need time to do something like that," Yamcha reasoned.

"Maybe Dende can tell us something?" suggested Gohan. "Why don't we go to the Lookout and see if he knows. Yamcha and Krillin can go check on Bulma and see if she has anything to say about this."

They parted ways from where they'd met in front of the Son home. Krillinand Yamcha nearly dropped from the sky as they were plowed through by an overpowered, angry Saiyan blur as Trunks arrived and landed violently on the lawn they'd just vacated. The flustered Z Warriors cast him worried glances, but went on their way.

Gohan and Piccolo made their way to the Lookout at a faster pace than Krillin and Yamcha had left towards the CC, silent and serious. Piccolo was clearly in a bad mood, and Gohan had learned long ago to just let him be. They flew for several minutes before slowing, casting confused glances at the empty air and each other.

"Shouldn't the Lookout be right here?" Gohan asked.

"It should. Do you feel Dende's ki anywhere?" replied Piccolo.

Gohan cast his senses out as far as he could and was shocked to feel nothing of his extended himself to look for Korin, Popo, and Yajirobe and came up empty.

"I can't feel them anywhere." he said quietly.

Piccolo descended rapidly, dropping from the sky like a green missile before slowing a few meters above the ground where he hovered. As Gohan caught up, he discovered what had halted his mentor. On the rocky ground,thousands of feet below where the Lookout should have been,lay what remained of it in pieces. What was left belied no hint of the vast interior that the Lookout had secretly held; it was little more than large chunks of granite and marble.

"What – how could – I don't understand. How could this happen? Without us sensing something?" Gohan stammered.

"Go get your father," Piccolo grunted as he began to pick through the rubble.

_Searching for the bodies_, Gohan thought despairingly, turning to follow Piccolo's command with tears in his eyes.

* * *

As Yamcha and Krillin arrived they found Capsule Corp erupted into chaos. The medical research building on the far side of the compound was only half-standing and other buildings were beginning to go down as well. Capsule Corp. employees fled from their buildings, yelling to each other and the newly arrived emergency crews over the shrill shrieks of alarms. The two men caught up with Bulma as she was running across the grounds against the panicked crowds in her bare feet and a thin, pink robe, her short hair sticking out at oddly unattractive angles.

"What happened?" Yamcha called to her as he scooped her up off the ground bridal style.

"I don't know! I had the younger Vegeta sedated in the infirmary so I could get some sleep. He shouldn't be awake yet!" she replied over the rush of air around them. Yamcha cocked an eyebrow at this information, but didn't comment.

They landed behind Krillin, who was already wrestling a spike-haired wild animal into a headlock, clearly not having too much issue, despite the rabid, explosive movements of his opponent. While Vegeta was quite strongfor a youth, Krillin was still the strongest full-blooded human on the planet and that wasn't anything to sneeze at.

"Chill out! We're only trying to help you!" Krillin snapped as he pushed the youth to his knees in a full nelson.

"Let go of me you freakish, midget worm!"

"He sure sounds like Vegeta," Yamcha muttered.

"Vegeta, stop it! Stop fighting!" Bulma yelled at him.

The boy immediately went limp in Krillin's arms and glared death up at the two standing in front of him from underneath his fringed bangs. Krillin slowly loosened his hold and backed away while Vegeta gracefully rose to his feet, peevishly dusting off his dirty battle suit.

"The fuck do you want?" Vegeta asked, emitting a rough grunt that sounded strange from a boy as small as he.

"Ah, well, I want you to stop being so difficult and let me and my friends help you," Bulma explained.

"Help me with what? As far as I can tell, I've been abducted by idiots."

"Oh! I haven't really explained very well, have I?" Bulma smiled placating.** "**I've wished you here from your time line because in our time line's future, you're my husband!" She kept speaking, despite the highly dubious eyebrow the child raised. "And I think that away from Frieza, you're actually a really good person who has been through some terrible things, so I want to help you." She ended awkwardly.

The look Vegeta gifted her with was withering, and for a moment she felt truly stupid. Why did she tell him all that? Right now? Surely there would have been a better way to present that information.

"You really are crazy," he said.

"Do you want something to eat?" she blurted.

"No, I want you to stop using your damned curse on me and let me fight like the warrior I am."

"And then what? You don't stand a chance against my friends," she felt a strange mixture of smugness and regret as she watched his face turn an alarming shade of red.

"Then I will die an honorable death in battle!**"**

"They wouldn't kill you either!"

"Then what is the point of all this? Why do you hold me prisoner here?"

Bulma's argument pulled up short and she felt a wave of confused anger wash over her. "You want to go back? To Frieza? To living as his slave? You want to go back to that?"

He sputtered, looking for all the world like she hadsaid his mother was a space slug. "Slave? I am no slave, you harpy! I'm am the Prince of all Saiyans. I am a warrior!"

The silence rang. Bulma held her tongue, realizing with dread that she had undoubtedly said the worst thing she could have. The boy version of her husband was breathing harshly, only the magic of the Dragon Balls preventing Bulma's sudden, violent end. She was about to open her mouth to try and apologize, if it was worth anything, when Krillin cut her off.

"Bulma, I know this is a bad time, but we have a problem."

Krillin shrunk back from the Bulma's icy glare and he imagined he could almost see her minuscule ki rising. His unnaturally lucky streak of being rescued in the nick of time held however, as Goku suddenly appeared next to Bulma with Gohan at his side, his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Guys, we have a serious problem."

* * *

Vegeta had been happy to sit back and observe the chaos his younger doppelganger wrought. Seeing his wife's employees scatter and run for their lives had brought back a Pavlovian sort of joy. The urge to give them something to _really _run from began to build somewhere deep inside him, but he squashed the urge. The woman would probably refuse to feed him or disable the gravity chamber if she caught him. He contented himself with enjoying the destruction vicariously.

Seeing Bulma in her ridiculous state of undress had amused him. He knew she loathed to be seen as anything short of perfect, and at present she looked like some sort of demented clown** – **her makeup running and her short, blue hair sticking up at all angles. He had always enjoyed her in that robe, although when her fool of an ex had grabbed her, Vegeta had to resist bashing in the moron's skull. The robe was far too short for her to maintain any sense of modesty and she had ended up flashing the entirety of the compound her undergarments.

The argument between his younger self and his wife hadn't been nearly as amusing. At first, it hadn't been so bad. Seeing himself subdued by the midget had been aggravating, but there was nothing to be done about it. He knew the "Z Warriors" were stronger than his younger self and it wasn't a surprise. Bulma's fumbled attempt to convince Vegeta to willingly stay and behave was both entertaining and disappointing. She really had no idea what she was dealing with. This small amount of destruction was only the beginning of what could have been one of his former self's legendary temper tantrums. Given a few more minutes, the structural damage would have escalated into carnage. Bulma didn't even seem to understand how fortunate it had been that this entire matter had occurred during lunch, while most of the employees were in the cafeteria, otherwise there would have been casualties.

Her accusation that he had been a _slave_, however, had made every muscle in his body stiffen. This was what she thought of him? Where had she gotten such an erroneous belief? Vegeta had never, and would never, be a slave! He'd made his choices and he had lived his life the way he saw fit. No one, not even Frieza, could dictate his fate! It burned him, that she held him in such low regard and he'd never known.

He left quickly, after that. He wanted to hear no more of her "opinions" for today. He sensed that Kakarot and his eldest had arrived, but that did little to his flagging interest in these idiots and their petty on-goings.

* * *

Trunks sat at the Son's kitchen table, sulking despite the delicious smells of the vast lunch Chichi was preparing. He was still trying to process everything that had happened. Goten sat next to him, salivating with the vacant, hungry expression he shared with his father while in the presence of food.

Chichi had welcomed Trunks into the house without a word about his blotchy face or his gloomy disposition. Trunks guessed that Gohan must have caught her up on recent events, because Chichi was tight-mouthed and her movements were violent and abrupt as she prepared her family's morning meal.

"I just don't know what goes on in your mother's head!"she exclaimed suddenly,slinging the bacon onto the griddle with enough force to knock up a thick spray of grease. "She never even considers how her actions are going to affect other people. She drags my Goku and my children off to do insane, dangerous things. Now she's doing it to her own family. I really thought she had calmed down after she had you, Trunks, but she's just as impulsive as she's ever been."

Trunks shrugged, not entirely sure how to respond to another adult criticizing his mother. He was mad at her too, but it still made him uncomfortable. Chichi lapsed back into silence as she opened the oven and viciously stabbed at the enormous roast inside. Goten kicked his legs against his chair impatiently, as if oblivious to his companies' dispositions.

"I don't know how she thinks this is going to change anything." Chichi said quietly, almost to herself.

It occurred to Trunks then, that Chichi had known his father when he first arrived on Earth. Trunks had been told before that his father hadn't always been on the same side as his mother and her friends, but he'd never thought much about it, blowing it off as the same as Piccolo having one been Goku's enemy. He vaguely recalled his mother offhandedly saying that none of them had really gotten along at first. He had figured the same went for his father, but just being on the opposite side of Son Goku did not earn you a spot in Hell and Trunks was old enough to understand that. He already died once himself after all,and figured he had some experience. Chichi was very forceful, but she was also very could tell him what his father had been like – what he had done that made him so terrible. And best of all, Trunks didn't think she would lie to him just because he was his son.

"Ms. Chichi," he began, his voice immediately cracking as he kept his eyes locked on the table. He was afraid he'd cry if he looked at her. "What did my – why does – Do you think my father deserves to go to Hell?"

She whirled around and peered at him through large, startled eyes, clutching a spatula to her chest with both hands. Goten stopped kicking his chair and looked between his friend and his mother with an almost identical expression. Trunks took a few deep breaths and raised his gaze from the table to look at her face. Her eyebrows fell as her initial surprise faded and he could see her answer written on her face before she even spoke.

"I do.**"**

Trunks felt something in him break.


End file.
